Fade into Darkness
by SerEndy.HauntingLove
Summary: In the final months of Henry VIII's life, he is sent a ghost of his past to help him with his fears and answer his questions. Truths come to light, forcing Henry to see himself through the eyes of others. He just might realize the one woman who betrayed him, the woman he hated the most - is the only woman he ever could truly love.
1. Prologue

_** May 19, 1546**_

For the first time in years, King Henry VIII found himself thinking about his second wife, Anne Boleyn. It had been ten years since he had ordered her executed and then pushed from his mind. He couldn't help the stray thoughts from making their way into his ear. What if he had spared her? What if she **didn't **betray him? In his minds eye he could see her dark eyes, her brown silky hair cascading down her back, her sly smile as she curtsied to him. He shook his thoughts off with a sigh. It would do him no good to think thoughts like that. She was ten years gone and not coming back.

He got up from his desk with a groan. He wasn't the young man he used to be. His girth was wider than it had been, his legs were in constant pain, and his head was balding. He knew that his time was drawing near to join his dearly departed wife Jane Seymour in the eternal heavenly palace. Though he was but nine years old, Henry was relieved that he'd be leaving his throne to his boy; the future of England was secure. His attendants dressed him in his night gown before he dismissed them. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. Groaning again, he slowly stepped towards his bed, freezing when he finally looked at it.

Lying across his bed on her belly was a beautiful woman with curly brown hair, dark blue eyes and a familiar smile. The dark crimson dress she wore was reminiscent of a dress she wore to a ceremony just for her – when she was crowned Marquess of Pembroke.

"Anne." The one word was all that he could manage through the disbelief crowding his eyesight.

"Your Majesty." The voice wrapped him in a sense of familiarity, something that was very welcome to him. His sigh of contentment was not lost on either of them.

"How are you here? You died." His voice was much gruffer than it had been while she still breathed, and he was much larger. But his face still held the ghost of the man she once fell in love with, before he became the bitter, twisted tyrant he became.

"I did not die My King. You had me murdered so you could marry a woman that was dreadfully dull and nowhere near the woman that I was." Her words were simple and soft, but they managed to infuriate him in seconds. He remembered the fire they once had.

"Do not speak of the good Queen Jane like that! She was my wife and true Queen of England!" Henry snapped. He was still not entirely sure what she was, but whatever she was, insulting she would not be.

"I see you did not deny she was dull. Even a blind man would take one look at her and know that immediately. But you did not care. She soothed the fire that I brought out in you. She showed you light where I was your darkness. But tell me Henry, are your favorite past times not done in darkness?" She was no longer lying on his bed but was leaning in close to him, trailing her finger down his chest. Despite himself, he shivered. He hadn't taken a woman, or his current wife Catherine Parr, to bed in almost a year. He had been having issues becoming aroused and as he aged, he found that he found himself disinterested in the activity as well.

"Anne, why do you haunt me so?" He groaned as his body began to react to her touch.

"Do you remember the last time we danced together? It was the Volta. There was such passion that night. I believe you still bear the scars on your back I left you with. I told you that night I wished to conceive again." She was speaking wistfully as her nails trailed down the spot she had dug her nails in deep all those years ago. She was circling him as a dog circles its prey on the hunting field.

"I remember Anne. That was the night you wished for me to kill my daughter Mary and Katherine. It was the night I realized you could not be trusted." His eyes were narrowed at the dark eyes that had once captivated him for years.

"It was not my proudest moment, I admit. I was possessed by this notion that it had to be either Mary or me in this world – neither of us could live in it together. It was crazed. It was something you drove me to Henry. Your love was so fickle and ever changing that you drove me to become a shell of my former self." She accused the King of England, her eyes ablaze. He could hurt her no more and she was no longer scared to say what was on her mind.

"I am your King; do not act so familiar with me! Do not think to blame me for your downfalls Madam. You lost my love because you lied to me! You always lied to me! You were no virgin when you came to me, you gave your body willingly to other men and you never gave me the heir you promised!" He roared, his face reddening. Anne could only laugh.

"I never gave my body to anyone but you _Your Majesty. _You had my maidenhead you fool. And I would have given you a son, the living image of his father had you waited a few months before killing me. You knowingly killed a woman with child_. _Yet proclaim to be a just and kind ruler." She spat out in disgust, finally airing out the words she wanted to since the day she lost her head. She had just found out she was with child, and Cromwell had been charged with telling the King, who made it obvious he had no care for the child in her womb. Henry recoiled as if he had been slapped.

"You were with child? Why was I not told at once?" He sat down heavily on his bed, her words spinning around in his head. She had been with child. His own flesh and blood and he had prevented that child from growing; from living. For the first time, he fully regretted his rash decision.

"You were told. By Cromwell." Her voice had grown weak at the thought that he had truly not known. She knew Cromwell had hated her and wanted her gone, but she never imagined he would kill her innocent son.

"I was never told Anne, I swear to you." He grew alarmed at her fading appearance and she smiled sadly at him.

"I believe you Henry. I must go for now. But I will be back. I've been sent here to make your transition to the afterlife easier. To answer any questions you have, soothe any fears you might need soothed." She spoke quietly, the hooks drawing him in.

"The afterlife. I'm dying?" Fear shone through clearly on his face and for just a moment, Anne felt her hatred of the man in front of her dwindle.

"Yes. You'll see the New Year Henry, but not by much. Nobody but you can see me, or feel me." She grew ever more dim and Henry panicked.

"Wait, why you? Why not Jane?" His voice was hoarse with unshed tears.

"Because you belong to me Henry. Your heart is mine." The words echoed as she completely disappeared, leaving a shocked Henry staring into nothing, tears falling down his cheeks.


	2. Death of the King

**_May 21, 1546_**

It would be two days before Henry would see Anne again. He was beginning to think he had only dreamed her; that he had never seen her, but he knew differently. He was a lot of things, but crazy was not one of them.

"Lazing about in bed? Whatever happened to the early riser in you My King?" Her melodic voice filled his ears with laughter and internally, he groaned. Even in death, he would never want Anne to see him like this.

"My leg is bothering me today; I shall be staying abed today to allow it time to heal." He was dismissive, not wanting to talk any more of his ailments. A King ought to be healthy and virile, not injured and weak.

"Of course of Your Majesty, there is nothing more important than your health." She knew more than anyone that her former husband could be very stubborn when he wanted to. She couldn't help but think back to the jousting accident that had been the beginning to her end. They had told her he would die and the fear that coursed through her, the absolute shock and panic, caused her to lose her child later that night. Whilst she worried about him, his mind occupied with Mistress Jane.

"Anne, can I ask you a question?" The words spoken from him felt foreign on his lips. As King of England, he rarely had to ask permission for anything, but Anne was different. She was not of this world and thus, he could no longer just demand anything.

"Of course Henry, you may ask me anything." Her eyebrow rose in curiosity, thinking the same thing the King had just been thinking.

"Have you seen her? Jane?" He was hesitant and she was mentally sighing. He would ask her the one thing she did not want to answer, but knew she would anyways.

"I have seen her." Her former husband looked disappointed that she did not willingly offer more. He needed details on the woman he missed more than the Earth missed the Sun at night.

"Please Anne. Tell me about her. How is she? Is she happy?" The words were hard for him. He could not imagine her being happy without him, but hoped she was not miserable.

"How do you expect Henry? She's dead! She died giving you the heir you so wanted. Tell me Majesty, was it worth it?" Her words came out much harsher than she intended them to, and she saw Henry's face turn white.

"I never meant for her to die." He spoke softly and truthfully, reliving the pain he felt as he stood over her dead body, torn between mourning his wife and celebrating his son.

"She knows that Henry. She watches over her son daily. I wish I could tell you more but I can't. Even in eternal life, Jane and I are not friends nor do we care to be. The same goes for Katherine. I know she's there, but we do not communicate at all. She spends all her time watching over Mary." She explained delicately. She wondered idly why Henry would have the idea she'd know how Jane was faring. It was an absurd notion that death would make them equals, or friends.

"Thank you. I suppose you spend all your time watching over Elizabeth." Henry looked away from the eyes that captivated him so vividly for ten years,

"No. I could not bear for the longest time watching how you treated our daughter. An innocent girl, your perfect Tudor Rose, neglected by her father because you thought something that was not. I did watch her one day and saw her cry for her mother, her uncle George and most of all, for her father. She asked God why she was not enough for you. Why you could not love her. If I hadn't already been dead, surely I would have died from heartbreak for my darling Elizabeth." She sighed as she walked closer to Henry, wishing she had the power to see inside his head, to know what he was thinking.

"I never thought about what I was doing to her. I never knew how it affected her. But Jane was kind to her, reconciled her with me. I do love her Anne, just not as I should. Sometimes I look at her, and all I can see is you. And I remember how you betrayed me." His words were quiet, hanging between the two of them thickly. Neither of them spoke again for a few minutes, and then Anne finally cleared her throat.

"Alright. I think we should change subjects. As I told you, you are dying. I'm here to show you anything about your past you wish to relive, anything about the future you want to know, anything about anyone you want to know. The only thing I cannot show you is how things could have been. Each decision made in life is set in stone, so I cannot show you how something would have turned out had you not made that decision." She explained. She wasn't being entirely truthful. She could show him the 'could have been' but she was choosing not to. There was no sense in dwelling on the things one cannot change. She herself had made the mistake of following down that path. She had seen how glorious and full of love her life would have been had her son not fled her womb. She could not remember crying more; even watching her brother lose his head had not given her such a reaction.

"I'd like to see my death." She almost missed the words, so lost was she in her thoughts. She should have known, the vanity and pride of the man she loved so deeply once upon a time would choose to see his own fate before seeing that of his children.

"Take my hand." She held out her slender fingers and grasped his chubby ones, closing her eyes. Following her lead, Henry closed his eyes as well, a darkness overcoming him.

_**January 28, 1547**_

When Henry opened his eyes, he was in a room unbearably hot. The room filled with the stench of something foul, as if a corpse were in the room rotting. Several figures surrounded someone lying in bed, most of them his doctors, one of them the Archbishop Cranmer, the one man who still remained in his life that he trusted completely. With a start, he realized the man they were surrounding was _him._

"Someone should tell the King he is dying." One man whispered to a dark haired man next to him. The man fervently shook his head.

"We cannot! He may be weak but he can still have us arrested for treason! It is punishable by death to predict the death of a King." The other man whispered back before falling silent. It was Archbishop Cranmer who finally broke the news to the man lying in bed.

"My King. You must know the time the Lord calls you home is drawing very near. Is there anything I can do for you?" He spoke gently, his love for the once great man filling his eyes with tears. The old King shook his head weakly, his eyes closed.

"Where are my daughters? My son? Where is Catherine Parr, my wife?" King Henry was bewildered by the scene in front of him. He was going to die shortly and yet, it seemed like nobody was there.

"You've been in bed eight days Henry. You cannot feed yourself; you cannot give yourself anything to drink. That stench you smell? That is coming from your legs. Your ulcers have burst open and your feet are already rotting. Once you realized your time was drawing close, you sent your wife and children away. Nobody should have to watch their father die like this." Anne spoke softly though nobody could hear them. She knew from personal experience it was shocking to watch yourself die, she had done it a multitude of times already. She had watched Henry die as well, so she was prepared for what came next.

"Anne." The old King in bed whispered her name, looking straight at her. She smiled at him and drew closer, holding her hand out.

"It's ok my darling. Don't be afraid. Once you take my hand, you'll be out of pain forever." It happened quickly. Once his physical hand shakily touched her ghostly one, his spirit was gone.

"The King is dead. Ring the bells." Archbishop Cranmer pulled his cap off his head and touched it to his chest, reciting a prayer for the traveling soul of King Henry Tudor VIII, long may he rest in peace.

"So that's it? That's my death?" He was astounded. He had expected weeping, screaming, something other than this. Cranmer was the only one who seemed to feel anything.

"That is your death my King. Come, we've something else to see." She took his hand again and closed her eyes. The scene changed to St. George's Cathedral at Windsor Castle. The smell of death greeted them once again. The scene in front of him filled him with dread.

His coffin lay on the stone table, open. Dogs prowled around the table, some of the bold enough to draw close enough to the body of the dead King, licking his dead flesh, drinking the fluids leaking from his ulcers. The scene reminded him of something once said.

"And dogs will lick his bones as they did Ahab's." Anne spoke from his side, also remembering the speech John Fisher gave right before his imprisonment. Henry felt a blackness fading in on him, and then saw nothing.


	3. Death of Anne Boleyn

Light filtered through Henry's closed eyes, bringing him back to a conscious state. He could not stop the images that swirled around his brain, images of his death clouding his mind. He found himself sitting at his writing desk; Anne perched on the corner of the desk next to him.

"My King, are you alright?" Her musical voice rang in his ears as he looked at her in disbelief.

"Is that really my death?" He felt cold dread gripping his heart, his stomach tied in knots. No King deserved a death as lonely and as gruesome as his would be.

"It is Henry. There is nothing you can do about it anymore. Once upon a time you were destined for a different course, but your actions in life make that impossible." The brunette could not help the pity in her stomach for the man she once deemed the Great Love of Her Life. If she spoke honestly, though she would never do so out loud, she still loved him more than anything, despite his physical condition. She would have liked to grow old by his side as his queen.

"How did my life come to this?" He dropped his head into his hand, unwanted tears blinding his eyes.

"You changed from a kind, loving ruler to a king who cared for nothing but your lust and wants." Her words were simple and meant to cut him.

"I cared for you." His words were soft, and she almost missed them. Her smile was grim as she replied.

"Sometimes I wonder if you cared for me, or the thought of me. You certainly cast me aside quickly enough, and certainly had no trouble having my head taken from my body."

"I cared for you until you betrayed me! I have never understood it Anne. I gave you everything I had, everything in me. And yet, you found it in your cold, dark heart to betray me in the worst possible way." He snarled at her. In his mind he wondered if he believed his words, but he did not care. He wanted to hurt her with his words, as she had done earlier.

"I betrayed you?! Have you forgotten your milk and honey Mistress Seymour? The woman you had me murdered for? Do you think I do not know that while I was awaiting the swords cold blade, you were riding to Wolf Hall to see her? To ask her to be your Queen? I was completely and utterly alone on that scaffold where my life ended." Her voice weaved itself in sadness, her voice thick with tears by the end of her dialogue. It had been ten years since her death, and the needlessness of it still moved her to tears whenever she thought too long on the subject. She had really thought Henry loved her too much to allow the execution to go on; that he would come to his senses before it could go too far. But her knight in shining armor never appeared.

"What was your last thought?" It was morbid, he knew, but he was curious as to whether or not _he_ had been on her mind in those last moments.

"I saw birds. The swordsman called for his sword, scaring the flock into flight. I watched them take off and could not help but wish I was a bird. To be free flying, no care in the world. Right before the blade sliced my skin, I saw my beautiful daughter's face. And I was at peace." Tears flooded from her dark blue eyes, shimmering. Henry wished he could wipe them away, but knew his hand would go right through her. He knew what he wanted to see this day.

"Show me." She looked startled at his words, looking up at the man who had refused to be there the first time.

"Fine. I shall show you my final moments on this Earth." She held our her slender hand, and his plump on grasped it firmly, and for the first time since she had returned, he felt the warmth of her soft skin before everything went black.

When he came to, he could saw they stood in the front of a crowd. In front of them was a scaffold, stained with blood. A swordsman stood to the left of the platform, a mask covering his face so that nobody knew his identity. He heard the crowd murmuring and then grow silent as Queen Anne Boleyn began her final walk, flanked by one of her ladies on either side.

There were no tears in her eyes, her head was held straight, her eyes looking at each person as she walked by them. She wore her hair in an elegant bun, a beautifully crafted cross around her neck. A red cloak around her shoulders, she looked every bit the Queen that she was.

"God Save the Queen!"

"Bless you Queen Anne!"

"God be with you Your Majesty!" The calls she had longed to hear her entire Queenship were finally being spoken, but in her minds eye, it was too little, too late. As she got to the top of the platform, she turned to speak to the crowd, once more quieting them down.

"Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul." As she spoke her ladies helped her cloak off and helped her put a white cap over her hair. Under the cloak, she wore a lilac colored dress that made her seem pale.

"Even before your death, you had nothing but kind things to say about me." He spoke more to himself than to her, but she looked at him amused.

"Even in the grip of death I still felt love for you Henry. One of us was honest in our feelings for the other." She saw the flock of birds she had mentioned to Henry earlier, and flinched as she watched the blade slice through her white delicate skin. She saw Henry's face pale, knowing he had never been this close to an execution.

"You looked so peaceful." He could see his death in his minds eye, and could not help noticing how much more peaceful she looked than he did. And she was the one who was executed.

"I knew my time on Earth was done. The man I loved decided to love another. For me, London melted into the Thames." He looked at her sharply, remembering his words to her.

"_Have I made you unhappy?" he asked in concern for the woman he loved most in the world._

"_No, I would only be unhappy if you ever stopped loving me." She looked at him with all the seriousness in the world, awaiting his reply eagerly._

"_London would have to melt into the Thames first." And in the moment, he meant it more than anything else in the world he had ever said._

He watched the scene around him change, as if in fast forward. The time flew by, the crowds dispersed, and yet Anne's body remained on the scaffold while the guards left. He was confused and looked to Anne for explanation.

"You did not provide them with a casket. They've gone to find something to bury me in. My body laid there for more than four hours." He watched as what he presumed hours flew by before the guards returned with an arrow chest. Her body was tucked in, and then her head placed on her chest.

"Where is she off to?" One guard grunted as he picked up his end of the arrow chest.

"We're to bury her here at the Tower." The other guard said breathlessly as they lifted the chest and disappeared out of sight onto the grounds of the Tower of London.

He took a hard breath of air into his lungs, finding it hard to swallow. After ten years, he truly regretted what he had done to the woman in front of him, the woman he had torn England apart to marry. For the first time, he wondered why he had allowed her to have two miscarriages before discarding her, whereas Katherine had eight miscarriages and stillbirths. So caught up in his thoughts, he did not notice when his surroundings faded back to his bed chambers, and he back at his desk. He looked up at the woman in front of him. He was a little surprised to feel that little spark of love in his heart he thought long gone when he looked into her eyes.

"I am so sorry for what I did to you." He whispered sincerely, a single tear escaping his cheek.


End file.
